


Requested Bonds

by rebelrsr



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Dom/sub, F/F, F/M, Impact Play, Non-Sexual Age Play, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Shibari
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-02-06 00:49:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12805989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelrsr/pseuds/rebelrsr
Summary: A series of reader-requested Bondsverse 'shorts'





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I'm finally back from the depths of writers block, too much RL, and health issues. That being said...my Muse needs your help to get back into the 'feel' of this 'verse. Check out "Chapter One" for specifics.

The Muse is asking for your help! (Actually, it's me asking for help so the Muse doesn't cuff me up and break out her whips).

Please send any prompts or special requests you have for the Triad or any combination of pairings for Cat/Tara/Faith to me at @omgsmoothmonkey (Tumblr) or via email at rebelrsr@outlook.com. I'll post the results of those prompts as chapters to this "fic". 

~rebelrsr


	2. Winter Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey, Tiger.” Soft lips brushed Cat’s cheek. “Time to get up. T’s making breakfast. Your favorites.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little domestic fluff for nyxxyn22. Hope you enjoy this short interlude.

Cat rolled over, dragging the comforter tighter around her shoulders. Warmth replaced the chill that had crept in where the heavy bedclothes had slipped. Mmm. Nice. But…not nice enough. One hand reached across the bed. The sheets were cold without Tara or Faith there, damn it. Eyes still closed, hovering on the edge of sleep, Cat gripped Faith’s pillow and yanked it under the covers with her.

 

It was cold! She ignored the change in temperature. The pillowcase smelled like Faith: spicy musk and a hint of wood. Cat buried her face in the scent, hugging the pillow as if it were her Domme. Phantom arms wrapped around her. Strong arms. _Faith’s_ arms. Cat sighed and let sleep reclaim her.

 

***

 

“Hey, Tiger.” Soft lips brushed Cat’s cheek. “Time to get up. T’s making breakfast. Your favorites.”

 

Get up or stay here, cuddled with Faith? Not even worthy of a thought. Cat inched closer to the warm weight at her side. “Call Jane. Not feeling well,” she mumbled.

 

The bed vibrated. “Really? Gotta cold?” Laughter edged Faith’s voice. “I’ll call down to the hospital wing so they can check you over.” The blankets covering Cat disappeared even though she tried to grab and hold onto them. Faith’s arms slipped between Cat and the mattress right before Faith grunted and stood – with Cat curled into chest.

 

“Faith! Damn it, put me down!” Cat demanded. It was _freezing_ in the room except for all the places she pressed into Faith.

 

“Can’t do it, little Cat. You remember our Lady’s got a thing about keepin’ us healthy.” Faith was moving toward the hallway, and Cat nipped her neck to interrupt either her path or the lecture. She was partially successful. Faith _did_ stop, only to glare at Cat with both her eyebrows raised (she hadn’t yet mastered The Brow the way Tara had).

 

It was still enough to cow Cat. Mostly. She wiggled, trying to get Faith to put her down.

 

“I gotta stop again, Cat, you ain’t gonna like it.” Damned if Faith wasn’t learning to be a real Dominant. Stupid Dominance classes and books that Tara had arranged. Faith didn’t always play as much as she used to.

 

Cat buried her face in Faith’s neck with a tiny kiss of apology.

 

In seconds, they were down the hallway and hovering near the kitchen. “Good morning, girls.” Tara had plates on the table already.

 

“Gonna have to wait on breakfast, T. Our tiger’s not feelin’ well.” Cat knew she was totally busted at the tone of Faith’s voice. She slumped against Faith, flushing, _feeling_ Tara’s gaze on them. “Figured we’d take her down to see one of the docs.”

 

“I’ll get a blanket to cover her with. We don’t want Cat to catch more of a chill since you forgot to dress her, my Slayer.” So totally busted. Tara’s voice was more wry than concerned with Cat’s health.

 

Cat gave in. “A blanket would be fabulous. Half of me is frozen and the other half has ‘Faithburn’ from all the Slayer heat.” She lifted her head.

 

“Could just turn you around and warm the other side,” Faith offered. Her grin was all teeth and dimples.

 

Tara laughed out loud. “Are we eating or going to the hospital wing, girls?”

 

“Eating,” Cat mumbled.

 

“Glad you’re feelin’ better, tiger.” Faith walked to the table and set Cat in a chair. She kissed Cat’s bare shoulder then her neck. “Me and T got plans for you tonight. Don’t want to put them on hold ‘cause you’re sick.”

 

Cat rolled her eyes. “Like that’s going to convince me not to call in sick?”


	3. Requested Bonds - The Warehouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based off a request from Harry2 and my own Muse: What happened in the warehouse once Cat and the Junior Slayers left? Occurs in conjunction with Broken Bonds chapters 21-23.
> 
> A/N: Sorry, Harry. I couldn't work in the whips, chains, or duct tape this time.
> 
> A/N2: This didn't turn out the way I'd hoped. I finally gave up. I couldn't stare at it anymore.

The warehouse grew quiet after Cat and the baby Slayers left. Tara let the silence settle around her and Faith. Their usual connection was different. Fractured. Coming to Boston had been necessary, and yet… 

Tara wished they’d refused.

The thought stabbed her heart. Sharp pain blossomed along with guilt. Faith had thrived in the cold and snow of Boston. Found an inner strength and burgeoning Dominance that had been stripped from her years ago.

Found Cat. Found a young woman who _had_ to be the bondmate Faith had forgotten. Had unwillingly abandoned, if the nightmares Tara had witnessed over the years told a true story.

Tara’s need to re-establish her place in Faith’s life wavered; firmed; wavered again. Goddess _damn_ it! Nothing felt right anymore. Tears burned her eyes, but Tara couldn’t separate the emotions behind them. Anger. Confusion. Fear. Grief. Overwhelming despair.

And love.

No matter what else swirled in dizzying circle in her mind, Tara loved Faith. Her Faith. The girl who’d exploded into her life and refused to allow her to cower in fear.

Her Faith who still needed Tara to guide her. To control the simmering violence Faith was so afraid to unleash outside of darkened cemeteries.

Shoulders straightening, Tara gathered her power around her like a cloak. Faith was her focus. Faith’s _need_ was the guiding light out of the morass of Tara’s doubts. Tara brought her attention fully to bear on Faith. Cat and her Junior escort were long gone. It was time to put both her and Faith on familiar emotional footing. “Eyes on me!”

The cool tone worked. Faith’s gaze snapped to her, pupils beginning to dilate. An answering shiver of desire raced up Tara’s spine.

Silence descended a second time as Tara waited for Faith to settle. To _feel_ her Dominance. When she was sure Faith was no longer waiting and longing for Cat to return, Tara stepped into Faith’s personal space. Not touching. Not yet. Close enough for her to hear Faith’s soft breaths, though.

“On you knees,” Tara ordered.

Faith hesitated.

Tara maintained a carefully blank expression. Inside, she growled in frustration at her own impatience. She’d moved too fast. Faith _wasn’t_ as ready as she’d believed. Again, Tara sense an inherent _wrongness_ in their relationship. It had been years since she’d been so inept at reading the stages of Faith’s submission.

Pulling back a step, she let her left hand glide along Faith’s lips. Her neck. Along the front placket of the battered jeans jacket. Soothing and tormenting at the same time. The slow strokes did the trick – for them both.

Faith’s shoulders dropped. Her breathing evened out. Tara smiled slightly, her own doubts slipping away. “I’ve pushed you lately, haven’t I, my Slayer?” she asked softly.

There was no verbal response; however, Tara noted a line appear between Faith’s brows. The clearest indication of Faith’s mental state and likely agreement with the rhetorical question.

“Returning to Boston.” Not even the Seers’ assertions that Faith needed to be on this mission had been enough to get Faith’s initial support for the journey. Tara had been forced to pull her Dominant card for that. “Working with non-Council personnel.” Faith _hated_ working outside of the Council. “Dominating Cat.”

 _That_ got an immediate response. Faith’s eyes melted into warm chocolate. The fingers resting on Faith’s neck registered Faith’s increased heartbeat. “You were magnificent then, my Slayer. All that power and focus taking care of her.” It was, Tara realized, the crux of the issue now.

Not “it”.

Cat.

One lovely, broken submissive. The root cause of Tara’s anxiety’s, of Faith’s spiral today. The sweet girl Tara had enjoyed in her collar and on the end of her leash during the investigation. A girl who’d fit so sweetly between her and Faith.

Maybe there was room for Cat in her dynamic with Faith.

Yes! The last of Tara’s fears drained away, replaced with euphoria. Lade Tara and her _girls_. Faith and Cat. Resurging confidence drove Tara to reestablish her place in Faith’s life. One hand closed on Faith’s throat. Tight enough to feel the way Faith swallowed against the hold. To register the pounding of Faith’s pulse.

“I said _kneel_!” Better. Cool. Controlled. Quiet yet with enough command that Faith automatically obeyed. Tara enjoyed the sight of her girl at her feet. Proud head bowed in ready submission. How beautiful it would be if Cat were displayed in a similar pose at Faith’s side.

Tara’s next move was easier. Far more natural. Circling Faith, Tara dragged her fingers over every inch of exposed skin she could find before stopping behind Faith with those same fingers clenched in a dark waterfall of hair. She pulled until Faith’s head tilted back. “Who do you belong to?”

Faith’s neck was taut. She was fighting Tara’s hold rather than giving in.

“I asked you a question, my Slayer. Who. Do. You. Belong. To?” Tara spit the words out, enjoying the challenge Faith presented.

Neck remaining taut against Tara’s hold, Faith answered. “You, Tara.”

“That’s right, my Slayer. You belong to me. You gave yourself to me the day you dropped to your knees and asked for my collar. Do you remember?” It was a treasured memory.

A tiny smile curved Faith’s lips. So beautiful. Beautiful like the sparkle in Faith’s eyes. “Yes, Tara. I remember. I said, ‘Please…please let me wear your collar.’”

Tara’s free hand dropped to trace the edges of the platinum links wrapped around Faith’s neck. “Do you regret asking, my Slayer?”

“No!” Faith was bowstring-taut now against Tara’s hold on her hair. “What the fuck, T? Are you outta your mind?”

“Excuse me?” Dominance, ingrained now (unlike all those years ago), rose inside Tara. “How do you address me?”

Despite the continued hold on her hair, Faith twisted enough to peer at Tara. “Tara?” So many questions packed into one name.

Bending down, Tara reassured her girl with a soft kiss. A caress. “That’s right, my Slayer. Tara. Or Lady Tara.” Her voice was warm. This was Faith. _Her_ Faith. She hadn’t lost her. She wasn’t _going_ to lose her.

Faith’s arousal, the heady swirling need of post-battle adrenaline enveloped Tara through their bond. Her own desire swelled in response. Tara commanded, “Don’t you dare move. Not one inch.” Her hands slipped away from Faith as she moved back long enough to dig her cell phone, a pair of wireless earbuds, and a scarf from her “battle bag.”

The scarf was her first tool. Tara wrapped it around Faith’s head twice before tying a knot to the side. “What’s your safeword, my Slayer?”

She sensed the eye roll hidden by the silky fabric as Faith mumbled, “Red, Tara.” Tara waited to see if Faith would follow up with anything else. – like her usual complaint that after so many years she didn’t need a safeword (and that she’d hardly forget it anyway, T).

Amazingly, there were no further comments. Tara laughed silently as she carefully inserted the earbuds into Faith’s ears. A flick of a finger started Tomohiko Sagae’s “Cold Eyes” on repeat.

Tara smiled in satisfaction as Faith knelt at her feet. Eyes covered. Ears filled with the white noise sounds of Sagae’s music. Going to a knee next to Faith, she returned to stroking Faith’s neck above her jeans jacket. Light touches. Heavy enough not to tickle, yet soft enough to make her girl shiver and the tiny hairs on Faith’s neck to spring up in response.

Neck. Ears, especially the fuzzy and sensitive tops. The “hot spot” at the base of Faith’s throat. Lips wet from an anxious swipe of a tongue. Nose. Forehead. Arms. Tara loved stroking every muscle and scar she could reach without disrobing Faith. Long minutes passed as she worked over Faith’s left then right arm.

Faith hadn’t dropped into subspace yet. Slight tension remained in shoulders and hips. Her breathing was harsh and ragged from Tara’s stoking of her PBEC. Tara noted all of it – and started over at the top with her touches.

Repetition worked. Eventually.

The muscles beneath Tara’s fingers went slack. Panting breaths evened. “That’s it, sweetie. It’s OK to drop. I’m here. I’ll always be here,” she murmured as Faith’s posture relaxed further, until she listed against Tara. It didn’t matter that Faith couldn’t hear her through the music. Touch would convey the same message. The words, soft against the ringing emptiness of the warehouse, were a repetition of the vow Tara had made to Faith throughout the years.

Her hands changed location and pace. Their weight on Faith’s skin heavier as Tara slid one beneath the hem of Faith’s shirt while the other gently scraped through thick, dark hair. Each touch was a reward. A silent “good girl” for trusting Tara enough to let go of the dark emotions raised by beating answers from unwilling vampires.

Tara teamed the glide of her hands with kisses along the expanse of Faith’s neck above her jacket and the platinum collar. Her girl. Her beautiful Faith. “I love you.” Almost from the first moment they’d met. “I will always love you, and I know you love me, too, sweetie.  But you love Cat, too, don’t you?”

Faith leaned completely against Tara now. Each of her exhales sounded very like a purr, a soft and contented noise. The frenetic energy and open aggression were gone. Tara smiled and pressed a final kiss to Faith’s neck.

Bringing Faith out of subspace as slowly as she’d gotten her there took time. Tara didn’t begrudge the chance to cuddle Faith. Goddess knows they’d done far more than kneel together in an empty warehouse over the years. Little by little, Faith came back to herself.

She didn’t move from Tara’s arms; however, the fluidity of her limbs firmed. She nuzzled deliberately into Tara’s neck. “Brat,” Tara murmured, charmed as always at the way Faith grew so openly affectionate when she submitted.

Tara turned down the volume of the music in increments to avoid an abrupt drop into reality. She loosened the scarf blindfold, giving Faith the choice to remove it when ready. “You are so beautiful, my Faith. Especially when you give yourself to me like this.” The blush that painted Faith’s cheeks indicated the white noise had lowered enough for Faith to hear her comment.

“Ready, sweetie?” Tara asked after Faith removed the earbuds and scarf. Her girl was still floating at the edge of subspace. A little dazed. A little needy. Tara shook her head. They’d wait another few…

She cried out, gripping her head. Faith echoed her shout, and she buried her face into Tara’s arm. Black dots danced in Tara’s vision. Beneath the debilitating pain roared raw panic. A panic so bright and sharp that Faith lurched from Tara’s grip.

Tara rushed to her feet as well. Compelled to run. To…flee.

 _Sam!_ The cry rang in Tara’s head as a phantom knife plunged into her neck.

Dear Goddess. A bond. The headache. The crazed adrenaline from outside her own mind. “Faith, stop!” she shouted. “We need to find the Junior Slayers and Cat. Now!” 


	4. Requested Bonds - Looking Into the Past (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Anon's Tumblr prompt: I think Faith would struggle with Tara brokering a reunion. Tara had a good mother and Cat had parents who were trying to take care of her even if they went about it the wrong way. Faith didn't have any of that. She had a mother who used her and no father that we know of, so Faith's very concept of parent is not a good thing. Also, seeing what happened with Tara's dad and brother furthered that idea to Faith, so reunion and parent means bad to Faith. That would be a real disagreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, Anon, for this fabulous prompt. I had to set the stage for Faith's reaction - and Tara's, too. This will be a multiple-part response to your request.
> 
> This is currently un-beta'd. Hopefully, I didn't have too many lapses in grammar and punctuation.

_Can you swing by the apartment? I left something there that I need._ Cat stared at the message on her phone. Why the hell was Tara texting her and not just using the bond? _She_ tried reaching out – and met an air-tight barrier.

Weird. As far as Cat knew, Tara wasn’t working on anything at the moment. If fact, Faith had been bitching about the recent lack of action at dinner the night before. Faith. Hmmm. Maybe Faith knew what was going on. _Hey,_ she called out. She’d learned during over time that it was usually better to find out if her Dominants were in the middle of a firefight or a research session before blurting out whatever was on her mind.

_What’s up, tiger?_ Faith’s mental voice was stress-free. Maybe Tara was fine. _Catch a case?_

_Not this time_. Thank Fate. _Anything I need to know on your end? Tara’s got the bond blocked._ A full block. Not the curtain-thing each of them normally used to contain thoughts and stay focused on day-to-day tasks.

A ripple of unease touched her mind. _Nah. Fucking quiet here. Not even a whiny Junior to chase around._ Faith’s “go to” hobby when she needed amusement and Cat wasn’t there to tie up and torment. _Why? You hear somethin’ from Rizzoli?_ The ever-present specter of the Legion haunted them all with nightmare-visions of retribution.

Cat sighed and rubbed her eyes. She hadn’t seen Jane all day. The other detective had been in court. _No. Just…_ Should she share her concern? Faith was always so quick to jump to conclusions (mostly the _wrong_ conclusions).

A little voice laughed at that. Wasn’t Cat jumping to conclusions now, too?

She waited a minute before responding, using the time to let Korsak know she was running an errand. They were working a case. He’d probably assume she was chasing a lead. Instead, Cat made an illegal U-turn and flipped on her dashboard light as she headed for the HQ. _I’m being paranoid. I blame it on Jane._

_Things change, you let me know._ The order was clear. Faith had definitely stepped up her Dominance game.

_Yes, Faith._ Cat shivered, body tingling at the sheer _feel_ of Faith’s Dominance. That would never get old. She completed the drive in record time thanks to the flashing light and judicious use of the horn. The car sailed into the parking garage and climbed to Faith and Tara’s reserved spots on the top level.

Cat jabbed the elevator button, impatient now that she was here. She didn’t even know what she was supposed to be picking up. “Something” left a lot of ground to cover. It obviously wasn’t Tara’s cell phone. There was no way Tara would go on a Council-errand without her magic kit.

The elevator finally arrived. Cat got in and pressed the button for the top floor. Her phone buzzed as the doors closed. “McClaren,” she answered.

“Where are you?” Jane never wasted time on pleasantries.

“HQ. Left something at home.” Damned if Tara’s earlier vagueness wasn’t fun to use on Jane. “Should be in and out in a few minutes.”

Jane’s response wasn’t what Cat expected. “Take your time. Nothing going on here. Cav even mentioned sending us all home.”

What? All of Cat’s instincts screamed a warning. While there hadn’t been a new call-out so far today, there were fifteen open case files on Cat’s desk. She wagered Korsak had twice that many. “Like I said, this won’t take long.” Especially since she was going to pick up the pace now. “Want me to grab lunch on the way back?” If Jane said no, there was no doubt the world was ending.

“Nah. Maur’s picking me up.” The world _wasn’t_ ending, then. Maura often swung by the precinct for lunch with Jane.

“See you later.” The elevator stopped and Cat got out. Their suite, assigned to the most Senior Slayer stationed at the HQ, took up half of the top floor. The rest of the floor held the oldest, most restricted books, manuscripts, and scrolls housed in Boston.

It was quiet in the hallway. Pretty normal since Faith and Tara were working and no one except the Watchers ever wanted to spend time in the Vault. Cat dug out her keycard and quickly unlocked the door.

Striding through the ridiculously overdone marble entryway, Cat felt… _something_ , some strange, invisible heaviness in the air. “Tara?” she called out. “Faith? Hey, if you’re home…” She exited the short hallway into the open living space.

And stopped.

Tara sat in the comfortable recliner in front of the massive window overlooking the HQ’s private gardens. Cat barely registered her bondmate, though. Her gaze locked onto the other people in the room.

Both were older than she remembered. White hair. Delicate lines marking their faces near eyes and mouth.

“Catherine!” Clad in jeans – _jeans!_ – and a Sam Houston State sweatshirt. The perfume was the same, though. Dior Diorella surrounded Cat as her mother’s arms gripped her in a desperate hug. Wet, warm droplets spattered Cat’s neck and dampened the neck of her blouse.

Words lodged in Cat’s throat. Emotions banged into one another as she tried to find one to encompass the maelstrom swirling inside. She remained frozen in place, unable to speak or move.

“I thought we’d never see you again,” her mother sobbed.

As if the situation wasn’t surreal enough, a heavy hand landed on Cat’s shoulder. “We’re so proud of what you’ve accomplished, Catherine.”

Hugs and praise? Who the fuck _were_ these people? They couldn’t be her parents. Cat’s parents had _never_ been the warm and loving types, and that had only grown worse after Faith and her bond with Cat had disappeared in her childhood.

All of her roiling emotions suddenly coalesced into a burning rage. She shoved away from her parents. “Get out!” Cat was so angry; she couldn’t decide who she wanted to leave: her parents or Tara. Maybe all of them. Right now.

Unfortunately, no one moved toward the door. Her mother _did_ step back, right into her father’s arms. Tears marked their cheeks. Tears that somehow drove Cat’s rage higher.

_Don’t you **dare** lash out at them again. _Tara’s mental comment wasn’t cool and smooth like usual. Instead, it…wavered in and out. A radio signal not _quite_ in tune. The mental fuzz did nothing to lessen the impact of the command. _I invited them here. You need to stop acting like a spoiled brat and talk to them._

The comment lashed at Cat – and she lashed back. _Spoiled brat? **Spoiled**? _ She was surprised she managed to keep the response non-verbal. _They locked me in a fucking nut house and then kept me prisoner in their house!_

_Because they love you, sweetie. Sometimes the things you do for love don’t work out the way you plan._ Tiny mental slivers of Tara’s regret and self-recrimination worked their way through Cat’s blind anger.

Cat immediate reaction was to apologize. _I’m…_

_No._ Tara’s resolve returned with a vengeance. A hard wall of icy control separated her mind from Cat’s. _My duty as your Dominant is to care for you. **All** of you. Even the parts you try to hide. You need to sit down and talk to your parents, Cat. It’s not an option._

Emotions seesawing, Cat swung from apologetic to angry again. “The fuck it isn’t,” she snapped. This time out loud. “I _always_ have a choice.” Meeting Tara’s eyes, Cat clearly said, “Houston.”

A normal word in most situations. In the highly-charged atmosphere of the living room, though, the word exploded into the strained silence.

Cat’s safeword. A word she had never used with her Dominants.

Until now.

Tara turned ghostly white and flinched as if Cat had smacked her. Then her head bowed beneath a waterfall of blonde hair. Without a word, she left the apartment, door closing with a muffled thump.

“She got that temper from you, Sir.” Cat’s mother murmured.

A pained chuckle barely penetrated Cat’s intense focus on the closed apartment door. “I wish I’d done a better job teaching her to control it. I’m afraid she’s learning all the same, terrible lessons I did, darling.”


	5. Red Ropes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Triad at play...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A prompt fill for some Triad NSFW action from VJ. There is zero plot her. ZERO.

Who knew rope made noise? Cat listened to the soft slither of hemp as it stroked Faith’s skin. Watched Tara kiss Faith’s neck. Nibble on her ear. Then draw the red-dyed rope along tanned skin.

The hemp already adorned Faith’s chest. Twin double-strands stacked neatly. Cat unconsciously shifted.

Despite her seemingly intense focus on tying Faith up, Tara’s eyes immediately snapped up. Icy blue fire engulfed Cat. Her knees froze in place. She would have apologized if the ball gag jammed between her teeth wouldn’t have turned anything Cat had to say into an unintelligible mumble. Cat _did_ swallow hard. Drop her eyes and maybe whine (just a little, of course).

Cat sagged in relief when the invisible weight of Tara’s disapproval slipped away. She knelt in perfect position for a minute. Maybe two before checking out the action again. Faith’s breasts were now bracketed in red. The original strands above and new strands hugging her biceps and stretching across her torso.

It was strangely beautiful – but no way on par with Faith’s expression. Dreamy. Eyes heavy-lidded as she knelt in the “v” created by Tara’s legs. Tara draped along Faith’s back from her position behind Faith. Cat couldn’t see the current whirl of rope. Whatever Tara worked on was behind Faith. Every so often, though, Cat heard creaks as hemp slid against hemp, and Faith’s body pitched back and forth from the force.

Cat had never played with rope. She’d never had the patience to sit or kneel or lay while some Dominant wrapped her up like a Thanksgiving turkey. She’d never trusted anyone the way Faith trusted Tara. Watching them together…

She restrained the urge to move again. To make a sound. _Anything_ as she watched Tara twine the hemp through the strands around Faith’s right arm, around her neck before completing the trip down and around Faith’s left arm.

This time, Cat couldn’t hold back a distorted, sloppy groan. Drool bubbled around the edge of the ball in her mouth and dribbled down her chin. _Please, please_ , she begged silently. It was torture being so close and yet so far from her Dominants. From their connection.

Neither Faith nor Tara glanced her way. It was worse than any glare or reprimand. It was _not_ worse than a soft click. Cat’s hips arched off her heels and her cry echoed through the room. Vibrations hit nerve endings in pussy and ass. She clenched around the previously-dormant vibes, body trembling.

Every muscle tightened. It had been so long. _Days_ since Tara or Faith had allowed her to climax. Oh, there had been kisses. Hot, steamy make-out sessions on the couch. Yet not a single orgasm in nearly a week. Cat’s eyes slid closed, all the colors of the rainbow coalescing behind her lids.

Cat screamed her frustration through the ball. Tingles racked her body, and one tiny puff of air on her clit would end her enforced dry spell.

The air conditioner remained stubbornly off. The only air in the room heated as Cat panted through her nose.

It took an interminable amount of time before Cat’s breathing settled. Until the ache in her nipples and clit, the urgent clenching of her cunt dissipated into the constant mind-altering _need_ she’d suffered the entire week.

When Cat managed to resume the correct posture on her knees, to open her eyes, the visage had changed. Tara had completed the box-tie. The rope held Faith’s upper torso in taut red swaths. Her arms were hidden behind. Cat knew they were bound with the same length of rope that highlighted arms and chest. The rope that was the foundation for the mild suspension Tara was currently working on.

Metal hooks set under the main radial line near the back of each of Faith’s arms. Tara had used them to raise Faith onto the balls of her feet. A spreader bar pushed Faith’s legs wide.

***

Faith leaned into the rope. It cradled her in safety. As warm and supportive as one of Tara’s hugs. The room around her swam in and out of focus. She didn’t fight the feeling. Her head was too fuzzy for anything that strenuous. It was easier to…let go. To let Tara take care of everything. Of her.

Right on cue, Tara touched her. A gentle swipe of soft fingers. They stroked the edge of rope where it pressed into her left bicep. A counterpoint to the tight hold of the hemp. “You look beautiful, my Slayer.” Tara’s voice. Mmmm.

The words were as soft as Tara’s fingers. Soft. The room dropped further out of focus. Faith swam in a hazy realm. The only solid things left were Tara’s voice and her touch. The ropes.

“So does our girl. Can you see her?” Faith was too far gone for the question to make any sense. Her feet brushed across the cool hardwood floor; she no longer strained to maintain any semblance of standing. The ropes would hold her.

“Faith.” Why was Tara’s voice firmer? The fingers that had been so soft suddenly gripped Faith’s hair, tugging until the warm, dark pleasure surrounding Faith gained more solidity. Light. Shapes. Tara. “Don’t drop too far yet, my Slayer. Look at Cat.”

Cat. Faith’s feet found purchase on the floor. Her calf muscles protested the effort even as her gaze locked onto Cat where she knelt. “Fucking awe…some.” The words rolled in her mouth. Ungainly. Finally entered the room with a soft, slurred edge.

Tara kissed her. Faith slipped again. Let the darkness close around her. “That’s right, my Slayer. Our girl is awesome.”

It was so hard to respond with the hand in her hair and the voice whispering near her ear. Faith moaned, silently pleading.

“Soon, my Faith. I promise.” Tara understood. She always understood what Faith needed, even when she couldn’t say the words out loud. “Watch her. Watch your little Cat. What do you see, my Faith?”

See? “Pretty Cat.” So pretty on her knees. Then Cat…writhed. Her hips lifted and Faith saw her abdominal muscles ripple. The move penetrated some of the fog in Faith’s mind. “Bad tiger,” she said more clearly.

Tara’s husky laugh held an evil note. “Desperate tiger.” Her hand entered Faith’s field of vision, brandishing a small black remote. She pressed a button, and Cat cried out.

The sound…High. Sharp.

Desperate.

Cat’s cry kindled Faith’s desire where it had burrowed in the softness of subspace. She lost her footing as she answered Cat’s sinuous movements with one of her own. Delicious tension gripped her arms as the rope twined around her tightened in response.

***

Aware of every tiny muscle twitch and panting breath, Tara monitored Faith and Cat. Faith was ready. Already passed the edge of subspace yet clinging to enough mental control to be aware of Cat.

For now.

Not for long.

“You’ve been so good, my Faith.” Tara used her voice and hands, the words themselves, to work Faith deeper. Her fingers traced the ropes across Faith’s chest and around her arms. Over and over in a hypnotic rhythm. “So trusting to let me tie you. To let the ropes hold you the way I normally do.” Stepping around behind Faith, she pressed into the ropes holding Faith’s hands and hugged around Faith’s middle.

Faith sagged in her hold, her feet once again lazily brushing the floor instead of acting as an anchor-point.

“That’s right, my Slayer. Let go. You’re safe.” Faith’s breathing was soft and slow now. In. Out. Tara timed her own breaths to match for a long minute. Not even Cat’s continued sounds of garbled pleading interrupted the drugging pleasure of the moment.

But Tara had plans. Her movements slow and careful, she stepped away from Faith. Her Slayer was deep now.

It was time to check on Cat. Tara strode to her other submissive and grinned. Tiny rings of brown surrounded massive pupils. Pupils that latched onto Tara as Cat inched forward in supplication. Toned thighs twitched and trembled. Tara turned the remote off, and Cat sagged forward at the waist with a sob.

“Poor little Cat,” Tara mocked lightly, using Faith’s special nickname. “Did you need something?”

Cat’s sob shook her frame. “Eea…Eea”

Tara knelt next to Cat. “Look at me.” Ice coated her voice.

The command had an immediate effect. Cat jackknifed erect, eyes locking on Tara.

“Good girl, kitten.” Tara’d begun using the name as a joke until she realized how much Cat seemed to enjoy it. A little of Cat’s tension eased. “We’ve asked a lot of you, haven’t we?” She stroked Cat’s cheek before reaching behind Cat’s head to unfasten the gag.

The leather peeled away from sweaty skin. Strands of drool stretched from Cat’s lips and the rubber ball. Tara tossed the gag onto the floor and used a hand towel she’d left nearby to clean Cat’s face. A water bottle was next. Tara held it firmly, forcing Cat to sip rather than gulp. “Better?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Cat murmured. “Thank you.”

Quickly assessing Cat’s condition, Tara judged her ready to continue. “Crawl to Faith, kitten, and kneel between her legs.” Tara stepped back to watch. Cat’s movements were stiff after so long on her knees and made more difficult by the sleeves encasing her arms and holding them together.

The first few inches took time. Tara was patient. Faith (who Tara checked on visually every few seconds) was still in her happy bubble. Tara checked on Cat, too. The girl glistened with sweat as she slid first one leg and then the other forward. Tara’s body warmed at the pull and stretch of muscles in Cat’s back, thighs, and ass with each bit of gained ground. “That’s it, kitten. Almost there.”

In fact, Cat _was_ “there”. Swaying slightly as she settled into her assigned spot. Tara rewarded her with a deep, sloppy, kiss – and the return of the vibrations. Tara left the remote at the middle setting. It usually wasn’t enough to push Cat to climax. After nearly a week with no orgasm and the additional edging tonight… Tara ran her fingers under the edge of each sleeve. Not too tight. Simply uncomfortable. The tiny kitten squeaky toy was still clutched, silently, in Cat’s hands. Tara touched it; touched Cat’s hands; waited.

The toy didn’t squeak or drop to the ground. “I love you, Cat,” Tara murmured into Cat’s ear. “Be good for me just a little longer. Then you’ll get your reward.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Unlike Faith, Cat hadn’t dropped so far that her words were slurred. Her voice _was_ higher than usual.

Tara clicked the remote to the next setting reveling in the quickly indrawn breath and the way Cat’s head dropped back. “You know the rules, kitten.”

“No…No…” Far from a protest, Cat’s comment wasn’t a refusal to play along. Tara grinned as she walked behind Faith and picked up the bullet vibe resting on the small table with more rope, a pair of safety scissors, a far-less-safe-and-lethally-sharp dagger, hand towels, various packets and injectors of lube, and blankets. The vibe revved into action when Tara turned the base. It fit into the pocket of the front placket of her harness.

Her feet shifted as Tara rolled her hips as vibrations hit her clit. As she’d warned Cat, Tara needed to stay focused for a little bit longer. The table yielded Faith’s favorite dildo. The weight dragged at Tara’s hips after she fit it into the ring at the front of the harness.

Stepping forward, she stroked the silicone before rubbing it along the seam of Faith’s ass. Faith’s hips flexed in response. “That’s it, my Slayer. Are you ready for me?”

Tara didn’t need Faith’s verbal response. Faith’s labia shone with arousal. She got one anyway. “Yes, Tara. Reeaady,” the final word drawn into a lengthened sound.

Guiding her silicone cock with one hand, Tara got lined up. “Now, kitten. I want that pretty mouth on Faith’s clit.” She waited a heartbeat as Cat lunged forward with more enthusiasm than skill given her bound arms. Her girls were amazing. Tara rewarded Cat with another setting on the remote. The buzz was audible over Cat’s whimper and the wet, slurping sound as Tara thrust forward into Faith’s cunt.

All of the planning. All the millions of moving parts came together. Faith’s languor shifted. Tara noted the rise in tension as she gripped the ropes beneath the metal hooks in the box tie to push/pull Faith in an increasingly brutal arc.

***

The dildo bumped Cat’s lips every time Tara fucked into Faith. She welcomed the mild discomfort as a reminder of Tara’s complete control. Of Cat. Of Faith. Faith’s clit seemed to grow and reach out to Cat now.

Cat was surrounded by Faith’s scent. Her taste.

Unlike Tara, Cat had no control over anything. She knelt in place, a living sex toy for Tara to use on Faith. Her knees and back screamed in protest. The bite of pain adding to the burn centered on her clit. Mixed with the rumble in her cunt and ass as the vibrators did their job.

She couldn’t…She wasn’t supposed to…

Thoughts fracturing, Cat keened into Faith’s pubic bone as it smacked into her chin and nose. She had no words to beg. No voice to speak even if there _had_ been something to say.

There was only a fire building to white-hot intensity in her cunt. It swept upward, consuming everything in its path until every inch of Cat’s skin, every nerve inside and out, flared into one glowing point…and held…Held…Heat. Need. Burn. Ache. Holdholdholdholdholdholdholdhold!

“Now, girls!” Tara’s voice. Tara’s command.

Two cries in two different voices followed. From white to rainbow to red. The world around Cat whirled in a kaleidoscope of colors. The fire raged through Cat turning her mind and body to so much ash in its wake.

When it ended, when the blaze was no more than a lingering ember causing Cat to twitch in response, Cat slumped onto her side. It was so cold now. All the heat had drained away, and sweat leeched the rest of Cat’s body heat as it dried.

“Cat.” Something warm and soft draped over her. “Come on, kitten. Stand up. Lean on me.”

Tara. Mmm. Tara. Cat grinned at what Tara called her. “Meow,” she mumbled and broke into giggles.

A warm laugh joined in. “That’s right. My kitten has a beautiful voice, but she also needs to curl up in her nest.” Hands cupped her arms and lifted. “You can do it, sweetie.”

Could she? Cat stumbled over her own bare feet, knees doing their best to bend backward in defiance of anatomy.

“I’ve got you. Come on. Just a few more steps.” Tara was gentle yet relentless. Her voice and hands kept Cat upright. “Here we are. Climb into the nest, kitten.” More lifting. More moving.

Cat yawned and tumbled into softness. Warm weight covered her. She floated in its grasp. Nothing penetrated her cocoon. She…floated…until voices roused her enough to be aware there were others in her nest.

Blinking to clear away the lingering daze, Cat watched Faith and Tara walk to the bed. Faith with regimented marks etched into her skin where red rope had been. Eyes liquid chocolate and unseeing. Cat raised the edge of the weighted blanket draped over her.

“Thank you, kitten.” Tara’s praise coiled around Cat like verbal sunlight. She smiled, too. And those blue eyes turned Cat’s already softened bones to Jell-o. Cat _melted_ under them. “Keep our Faith close until I get back.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Cat waited until Tara draped Faith on the bed next to her then wrapped blanket and arms tightly around Faith. So tight. Hugging until her arms ached so that Faith would know Cat was there. That Cat loved her and would never leave her alone.

Minutes later, Tara returned for the final time. Cat watched, more alert yet flattened by exhaustion. “Did you drink something, Mistress?” Tara spent so much time and effort taking care of Faith and Cat she often forgot to take care of herself. Cat had promised Faith that she would make sure their mistress remembered more often.

Tara rolled her eyes. “I…”

Cat channeled her cop persona long enough to meet Tara’s gaze. “Drink.” Then the authority left her and she added a submissive, “Please, Mistress.”

“What did I ever do to deserve you, Catherine McClaren?” Tara picked up one of the bottled waters on the nightstand and ostentatiously drank in long gulps. “Satisfied, Lady Cat?”

“For now, Mistress,” Cat answered in a mocking lilt. “But I’d be happier if you’d climb under the blankets with me before you freeze out there.” She lifted the blanket again, humming in pleasure as Faith burrowed even closer to her.

“The Goddess knows I live to make you happy, kitten.” Tara curled around Faith’s back. One arm stretched across Faith’s side until her hand landed on Cat’s hip. “Close your eyes, sleepy kitten.”


	6. Requested Bonds - Looking Into the Past (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next installment of Cat's reunion with her family.

Cat couldn’t find any humor in the situation. Her head pounded from the whirl of emotions – hers _and_ Tara’s. She stared at her parents in silence.

“Catherine,” her father must have seen Cat’s unconscious scowl at the hated name. “ _Cat_ , could we sit down?” His expression was the one Cat remembered from her childhood: calm, controlled, somehow patronizing. “Your mother and I were so glad to hear from Tara.”

“Why?” Cat snapped in disbelief. “Why would you be glad, after all this time? I know you hired private detectives to find me.” She’d caught several of them tailing her in the months after she’d fled Texas.

There was no immediate answer. Her father and mother moved in lock-step to the couch and sat down. Cat automatically started to follow before catching herself. No. Fuck no. She wasn’t falling into the same traps that had ruled her childhood. _Do what you’re told. Follow the rules. Don’t make a scene._

If her parents thought Cat was going to smile and let them waltz back into her life, they had another thing coming. There would be an epic scene. Fuck that. This was already an epic scene.

Bright sunlight poured in the window, highlighting Cat’s parents as they sat and stared at her. “We haven’t seen you in years, Cath..Cat.” Her mother this time. She’d always been the peacemaker. The go-between when Cat and her father had been at odds.

“Did you ever think I wanted it that way?” Cat ignored the twinge of guilt. The inner reminder that she’d often wondered how her parents were doing. She didn’t want them here, in her home. The place where, until today, she’d felt completely safe from her past. Tara and Faith had been the salve for what she’d suffered. First as a Red Cuff and then as a prisoner of her parents’ “good intentions.”

“We wanted to reach out,” her father said in a quiet voice.

Cat laughed. What else was she supposed to do? “And yet I haven’t gotten so much as a birthday card. You didn’t want to contact me that badly.” Tara was gone. Gone from the room. Gone from Cat’s mind. After Cat’s outburst, Tara had completely blocked the bond – on both sides. Not just a curtain, but a full wall kept Cat from reaching out to either Tara or Faith. There was nothing and no one to help her cage the emotions inside. Hands clenched, she took a step closer to her parents and delighted in the fact they gave leaned farther into the couch back, away from Cat.

“I guess it isn’t surprising. You never were good at cards or letters, were you, _Daddy_?” The word tasted sour on Cat’s tongue. She’d never in her life called the man in front of her something so informal. He’s always been “Father”. Cold, remote, and uncaring.

“Remember all those letters I sent you?” She didn’t clarify which letters, but she saw understanding in his eyes. “I _begged_ you to let me come home.”

_Please, Father. I hate it here. Cat swiped clumsily at the tears streaking her face. Her father had to listen this time. A sob lodged in the space between her chest and her throat, burning and stabbing. Her head swam. The drugs were working, making it hard to think through the pharmaceutical haze. The sob broke free, tearing at her throat. The tears dropped faster. Faster than her shaking hands could hope to scrub away._ _I’m sorry. I won’t ever mention Faith again. Please, please let me come home._

“And you couldn’t even bother to write me back. You never visited. You fucking left me there alone!” Cat’s voice trembled, on the narrow edge between loud and full-on screaming. “All you ever fucking cared about was how I made you look. Like a puppet to show to your friends until Fate nearly killed me by taking away my bondmate!” Cat sucked in a shuddering breath, reveling in her anger. It felt good to finally say these things to her parents. “Fate forbid my presence do anything but elevate your fucking social status. Can’t have a Red Cuff daughter bringing down the atmosphere at one of your high society parties!” Dr. Blaylock would have been happy Cat was “giving voice to her feelings.”

The room was somehow too hot and too cold at the same time. Cat swallowed thickly, her mouth dry.

“We did what we thought was best,” her father murmured. He appeared…drained. His skin pale and lines carved in his face.

Emotion exploded through Cat. She didn’t bother to censor the words spewing from her lips. “As long as the ‘best’ was all about you!” Her words tore from her throat with the savagery of her anger and hurt. “I never mattered to you, did I?”

Her parents…the two people frozen in shock on the couch never moved. They stared at Cat, statues carved from living flesh.

“Do you even know what the doctors did to me in that place?” Adrenaline roared through Cat’s veins. She paced in frantic strides as she continued. “Drugs. Every day, they pumped me full of drugs until I couldn’t think or move. I was some vegetable they propped at a table or in an office.”

_Cat watched dust motes float in the sunlight. It was pretty here. Here. Where was… Blinking, she struggled to remember. This was a hospital. She was sick. That’s what the doctor said. That’s why she needed all the medicine. To get better._

_Her eyes drifted closed. She was so tired all the time. So confused._

“Why did you even have me?” she cried. “You didn’t care about me then? Why should I believe you care about me now?” The room fractured into a crystal kaleidoscope. Cat swiped at the tears in her eyes. “All I needed  was for you to be there for me when my bond with Faith broke. Just…you…”

It was all suddenly too much. Cat took a step back and then stumbled for the door. She had to get out. Get away. Breathe. She couldn’t breathe.


	7. Requested Bonds - Little Scoobies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Scoobies enjoy downtime - with a little twist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read the updated tags on this collection of ficlets! The Muse and I have stepped far outside our comfort zone for this "chapter"...so far we almost left this in The Vault rather than post it.

“You have to color in the lines!” Willow insisted. She pointed to her picture, and Tara – as well as Xander, who lay next to Willow on the floor – glanced at her perfectly-rendered pony. “See? Everything is in the lines, just like Mommy told me.”

Xander slumped, his crayon falling onto the page of his own picture. A lake with a massive frog and duck that were done in whimsical pinks and oranges. A multitude of colorful squiggles escaped the thick black outlines of the shapes on the page.

“If I thought Janna gave Willow that advice, I’d make her spar with me,” Buffy whispered to Tara. She idly turned the page of her magazine as she kept an eye on the pair on the floor. Tara grinned at the thought. “But that has the ring of Sheila Rosenberg.”

No wonder Willow, even in her six-year old Little headspace, was so driven to perfection. If she’d heard _that_ kind of comment every day as an actual child… Tara turned her head and contemplated her own Little bundle. Sprawled on the floor with a mountain of plush animals, Faith scowled at a pile of blocks. Tara had pulled the usual riotous mass of curls into two thick plaits tied with bright pink ribbons. A pair of too-big running shorts and an oversized Big Bird t-shirt completed the charming image.

Tara’s enjoyment of her girl was rudely interrupted. The argument over the “proper” way to color had escalated. Quickly. Willow was on her knees, one skinny finger pointing at Xander’s picture. “You should throw that away! Look! Frogs aren’t _orange!_ ”

Poor Xander’s lip quivered before he shoved Willow to the ground. He reached for Willow’s picture – and found an unhappy Mama Buffy at his side. A Buffy who gripped one of his earlobes in her fingers and twisted until he rolled onto his hands and knees to relieve the pressure. “Alexander Lavelle Harris, don’t you even _think_ it!”

Willow’s lips turned up in clear, childish glee at Xander’s predicament. Tara didn’t envy Jana (or Buffy, who was Little-sitting for today’s playdate) having to deal with that kind of petty cruelty.

Tara paid scant attention to Buffy as she marched Xander to a corner, one hand still holding his ear and the other applying motivational force to the seat of his pants. “…young man. What did I say the last time…?” Buffy’s motherly lecture followed their progress.

She kept a close eye on Faith. As Xander twisted in Buffy’s grasp, yelping at the swats and protesting the lecture, Faith clambered to her knees. Tara was off the couch in a heartbeat. “Hey, pretty girl.” She sank down on the carpet at Faith’s side. “What are you building?” If she didn’t redirect Faith’s attention, Little time would be over. And they _all_ needed this time to reconnect. To relax. To put aside the stresses of the real world.

Tara already noticed a crack in Faith’s headspace. Her eyes, once bright with joy, were now shadowed. Little and adult at war inside.

“How about we build together?” Keeping her voice light, Tara picked up one of the blocks.

Faith didn’t join in. Her shoulders hunched as her gaze flickered from the block in Tara’s hand to Buffy – who now had both Xander _and_ Willow in corners.

Ignoring the scene across the room, Tara set the block back on the floor with deliberation. She added two more blocks in a line. “What about a castle? Every Little princess needs a pretty castle to live in, Princess Faith.” There was a stuffed Toothless in the pile of plushies nearby. Tara scooped him up and “flew” him over to Faith. “Toothless will fly over your castle to keep you safe, won’t you, Toothless?”

Toothless “answered” by dropping down to kiss Faith on the nose.

Ah, that was better. Faith’s grin was pure Little girl, and her giggle melted Tara’s heart. “Not a castle, Mommy. Not a princess,” Faith announced scornfully. “I a knight!

Tara pretended to think about that. “I don’t know…” she said. “You’re too little to be a knight!” She waved her hand. “Knights have to be big and brave.” Tilting her head, she peered at Faith, who’s wide, pleading eyes were impossible to ignore. “Are you sure?”

Nodding so hard her braids bounced, Faith shouted, “Yes, Mommy! Yes!” Then she was off in a flash, running to the bookcase against the wall behind them. The shorts were so big Faith had to use both hands to hold them us. One side slipped when she let go and grabbed a book and returned to Tara. “See, Mommy? Not too little. Knight!”

“I need to be sure,” Tara announced. “Why don’t you tell me a story?” she asked.

Faith’s eyes rolled so hard they were in danger of popping out of her head. “Mommy!” One bare Little foot stomped on the carpet. “You read!”

Fate, Tara loved her girl. Little or big, it didn’t matter. “In the chair?” she asked. “You can bring Toothless.”

“The Chair,” Faith agreed. She took Toothless and cradled him gently against her chest.

“Alright.” Tara stood and took hold of one of Faith’s braids, tugging it teasingly. They walked toward the couch where Tara and Buffy had originally sat. Next to it was a rattan swing chair. The half-circle of woven rattan hung from a base. It was Little Faith’s favorite place to cuddle. Tara climbed in first, settling back against the soft cushions. “Climb in, sweetie.” She held out her arms as Faith quickly took her spot. “Mmm, I love holding you,” Tara murmured.

Back to Tara’s front, Faith didn’t respond. She did grin, though, and Tara saw the tops of Faith’s ears pinken. “Read, Mommy.” The demand was more plea as Faith propped Toothless beside her and opened the book for Tara.

“In the middle of Knightland stood a giant castle,” Tara began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I received some invaluable advice of making this introduction to the Littles better. Unfortunately, the Muse and I couldn't find a way to skillfully insert all of the "tips". Here are the items that never made it into the ficlet:  
> 1) The Little playdate is a regularly scheduled event after a big Council battle. A way for the gang to decompress  
> 2) When in their Little headspace, Willow and Xander are around six or seven. Faith is a little younger at three or four.
> 
> The book Tara reads to Faith is "The Angry Little Knight" by Annette Langen


	8. Requested Bonds - Weight of Command

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith confronts what it really means to be Cat's Dominant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was requested by The Muse. She's had this scene in her back pocket since Broken Bonds was still new. Unfortunately, the original plan was to include it in Forever Bonds. It just...hasn't fit in the way I'd hoped.

Looking at Faith was like watching a movie from the past. Hands in pockets. Shoulders hunched. Chin up. Eyes defiant. The spitting image of the young, cocksure Slayer Tara had met at a Council social.

There was only one problem: that brash and angry Faith had lived and breathed more than a decade ago. _That_ Faith had grown and matured into a normally level-headed, responsible woman. It was a warning that Tara was skirting dangerous, emotional triggers.

She was too angry to heed the signs.  “Cat could have been killed!” Tara’s throat closed around the rest of the words she wanted to say. The shouts of blame and fear and anger lodged in her chest, where they burned and twisted.

She knew Faith could hear those hidden words and the rage wanting to fuel them, though, as Faith’s chin angled impossibly higher. “Nothing happened.”

Tara took an involuntary step closer. “She’s on medical leave, Faith! What part of ‘make sure our girl rests’ did I forget to mention?” Echoes of the terror Tara had felt when Lieutenant Cavanaugh had called two week ago filled her voice.

_“Miss Maclay? It’s Sean Cavanaugh.”_

_Tara hadn’t waited for him to say more. Cat’s commanding officer had never called Tara since Cat had joined his unit. Something was very wrong. She reached for the bond, shoving aside the curtain they all placed over their link during working hours._

_“Cat!” The second Tara moved past the barrier, pain nearly drove her to her knees. She staggered as Cavanaugh continued to talk._

_“…be fine. Detective McClearen is at Mass General. There was an accident…”_

That accident was the reason Tara had told both of her girls that Cat was confined to the apartment. A command neither of them had obeyed the minute Tara wasn’t there to enforce the rule. “When did I tell you it would be a good idea to take Cat on patrol with you and a group of baby Slayers who’d never been in a cemetery?”

Faith glared mulishly at Tara. “We took the kids for a fucking walk, T.”

“A walk that happened to be in a cemetery at night,” Tara snapped back. “A cemetery where there was a nest of vampires.”

“Nothing happened to Cat.” Faith wasn’t going to admit how close Cat had come to being bitten by one of those vampires. It was very clear she was in full denial.

So be it. Tara stepped back. Figuratively and literally. She needed space before she physically reached for Faith. To shake her. To slap her. Tara needed space to pull her emotions in check. Anger wasn’t working and it was very much out of place for Tara’s next action.

“We’re not arguing about this anymore, Slayer.” Tara’s voice lost the strident edge. It was cold. Crisp. Quiet. She saw Faith shudder in response. “You enticed Cat to break a direct order from me.”

Faith’s mouth opened.

“Do. Not.” Tara let every ounce of Dominance at her command coat those two words. “When you brought up the trip to the cemetery, what did our girl tell you?”

Faith’s uncaring slouch slipped into something more submissive. “She…she said she wasn’t supposed to leave the apartment.” Then she bounced back. “Cat didn’t say she _couldn’t_ go!”

Tara remained silent for a long moment, letting the weight of Faith’s answer settle around them. She didn’t call Faith out for her less than polite answer or the clear hair-splitting. “And why, my Slayer, was Cat confined to this apartment?” This would be the hardest part. Tara hadn’t been the only one scared by the late-night call. From the frantic rush to the hospital. Faith _hated_ to admit she was afraid of anything. Fear meant Faith _cared_ , and the original Dark Slayer didn’t _care_. Period.

There was no answer. Faith’s chin had dropped all the way to her chest, shoulders locked near her ears. All signs of her brash personality stripped away. Tara wanted to reassure her girl. She ached to wrap her arms around Faith and whisper that Cat was fine. That she and Cat loved Faith.

She couldn’t. Tara had pushed Faith right to the brink of where Faith needed to be. Tara dialed Lady Tara up further. She regained lost ground. Stepping deep into Faith’s personal space, she anchored her hand in the fine hairs at the nape of Faith’s neck. “Answer the question!”

A thread of sound filled the air between them. “Because Cat broke her ankle when she fell off a fire escape, and they put metal shit in to help it heal faster.”

A mumbled, partial explanation Tara knew would be the best Faith had to offer. Tara had seen and felt Faith’s agitation as they’d waited for Cat to come out of surgery. She doubted Faith had heard or understood anything the surgeon had said before _or_ after they’d wheeled Cat into the operating room. “What would have happened if a vampire had gone after our girl tonight?”

“I would have staked its fucking ass before it got close to her!” Faith’s head snapped up.

“Did you read the reports, my Slayer? The ones filed by the Juniors you led into the cemetery?” Tara had pored over them. Each badly written, computer-generated page. They’d all agreed on one thing: they’d been unprepared and terrified. “You were so busy keeping those baby Slayers alive, you didn’t realize some of the vampires had managed to sneak behind you. They were about to trap all of you.” To kill everything Tara loved.

Faith shook her head. “That’s not…”

“You’re the Senior Slayer of the Boston HQ, Faith.” Tara gripped Faith’s chin so hard that the skin around her fingers flushed red and then white. “Stop making excuses! You’ve been in hundreds, maybe thousands, of similar fights. What. Would. Have. Happened. To. Cat?”

Tara accepted the sudden sheen of tears in Faith’s eyes in lieu of words.

“When I am not here, Slayer, _you_ are Cat’s Dominant.” Tara ached for Faith. Picking up the mantle of a Domme had been easy at first. Faith responded instinctively to Cat. Beyond that, however, Faith had struggled to balance her submissive side with her Dominance. “You are there to care for her. Protect her. Even if that means making a decision that Cat – and perhaps you - won’t like.”

“I…” Faith raised a hand and wiped at the tears now streaking her face. “I didn’t…”

Tara couldn’t let up. She couldn’t pull Faith into a hug and let her cry. Tara had to follow the same advice she was giving Faith. She had to be Faith’s Dominant, no matter how much she didn’t want to be at this very moment. “You didn’t make Cat’s wellbeing your priority, Faith. For that, you’ll be punished.”

Faith nodded. “Yes, Tara.” She’d set her jaw and squared her shoulders.

Unfortunately, Tara couldn’t send Faith to kneel in a corner filled with rice or sit her at the table to write lines. Not this time. Swallowing against the ball of regret and anguish in her stomach, Tara said with steely resolve, “We will go into the bedroom together, Slayer.” The bedroom where Cat waited for them. “You will select a paddle or strap from the closet.”

Tools that Tara rarely used on Faith as punishment.

Tools that Tara would _not_ use on Faith this night.

“Then you will punish Cat with whatever you select for disobeying my very explicit command to remain in the apartment,” Tara ordered.

***

The waiting was worse than the razor-sharp ache of the ice bags perched on top of the cast covering Cat’s foot and ankle. Even with the bond closed, Cat knew Faith and Tara were fighting. She could hear the raised voices through the bedroom door.

This was her fault. Cat threw her right arm over her eyes, the soft cotton of her sleep shirt soaking up some of the tears. Why hadn’t she told Faith “no” and made it stick?

_“Come on, tiger. You need some fresh air.” Faith grinned, both dimples on display. “Ain’t nothing out there. Just a walk through Central. Not like we’re gonna run across a fresh grave there.”_

_Getting out **did** sound like fun. Cat was tired of the apartment. She’d been stuck there for two weeks, with Faith and Tara hovering over her. Still… “Tara said I had to stay here.” Tara had said that over and over and over. Each time with a scary expression in her eyes._

_Faith grinned. “T ain’t here. I am.”_

_What did that mean? Cat wanted to ask. Tara wasn’t usually the one sent on last-minute missions by the Council. Faith was the specialist they flew or transported all over the globe to save the world. Could Faith overrule Tara? Cat didn’t think so; however, this was the first time Faith had been left in charge. “But…”_

_“Hey, who calls the shots when T isn’t here?” Faith asked._

_Exactly Cat’s question. With Faith nearly bouncing with excitement in front of Cat, though, the answer seemed evident. “You, Faith.” Cat frowned. “Um, unless Tara tells me or you something specific?” It was in their contract. Not that she’d looked at that since the collaring ceremony. “Tara said…”_

_Faith interrupted Cat’s reminder of Tara’s order. “If you burned your finger on the stove, what would T tell you?”_

_“She wouldn’t **say** anything,” Cat mumbled. Tara would march Cat into the bedroom and give her The Look until Cat promised to never, ever go into the kitchen again. “Are you sure it’s OK, Faith?”_

She was so fucking stupid. Cat banged her head against the pillow behind her. She’d known Tara wouldn’t approve. She’d ignored Tara’s command, and she’d gotten Faith in trouble, too. Faith and Tara were fighting because of _her_.  

The bond beckoned. Cat could call Tara. Let her know it was Cat’s fault.

All the shouting stopped. Cat froze, straining to hear _anything_ from the living room. Nothing. The only thing left was the pounding of Cat’s heartbeat in her chest and in her swollen ankle and toes. Each _thump_ a reminder of Cat’s mistake, a count of the ways she’d let her Dominants down.

***

Faith stared at the bedroom door. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t go in there and…and…

Except Tara was right behind her. Faith could _feel_ Tara’s gaze, a cold beam boring into her back. The weight of Tara’s disappointment moved Faith forward. She crossed the living room.

Her knees shook. Cold sweat slicked her forehead, the nape of her neck, and pooled at the small of her back.

“Open the door, Slayer.” Tara’s voice was implacable. Unyielding.

The room broke into crystalline fragments. Faith closed her eyes against the tears. She gripped the handle blindly and turned. It was so easy. As if walking into the bedroom wasn’t the last thing Faith wanted to do.

Stepping into the bedroom was more terrifying than facing Kakistos. Than staring into Tara’s eyes the night Faith had begged Tara for her collar.

Seeing Cat sprawled on the bed with her foot in a cast and covered in bags of ice? Tear tracks trailing under the arm over her eyes? Worse than all the kicks Faith had taken studying with Lyn and Sam on the way to her first black belt.

Faith stopped and stared at her girl. At what _she’d done_ to her girl. The tears. The ice.

_“Faith!” One of the Juniors called out. “What do we do? There are so **many** of them!” The kid had been terrified as vampires swarmed around the group hiking through the headstones._

_There really weren’t that many. Two dozen, maybe. Faith had almost as many Junior Slayers in her group._

A group, Faith now acknowledged, with no combat experience and less than standard weapons. Nothing more than stakes and the knives Faith never went on patrol without. A group with an injured human using crutches.

No one had gotten hurt during the fight, but everything Faith remembered about the battle was…different as she looked back at it from the safety of her bedroom. 

_Faith ducked a wild roundhouse from one vampire even as she staked his buddy. Stake. Duck. Kick. Repeat. She scanned the Juniors. They were kicking ass and creating a dust storm as vampires disappeared around them._

_“Faith!” Cat’s voice. Faith spun in that direction – to see Cat balanced on her good leg and holding off a vampire with one of her crutches._

Only minutes before, Faith had arrogantly told Tara that she’d stake any vampire long before he reached Cat. In reality, Faith had gotten very lucky during the fight. If Faith hadn’t managed to throw her stake across the cemetery and stake that vamp. If any one of a million things had gone differently, she would have lost Cat.

Again.

Forever.

Because Faith hadn’t thought things through. The Juniors could have died. Cat could have died. The deaths would have been one hundred percent her fault.

Staring that fact the face stole Faith’s breath away. The weight of her responsibility settled on Faith’s shoulders. She was the Senior Slayer of the Boston HQ. The lives of every Slayer, witch, and Watcher who worked for the Council in Greater Boston depended on her leadership.

Just as Cat depended on Faith’s Dominance, love, and care.

She still didn’t want to punish Cat. Faith wanted to curl on the bed with her girl and hold her with every ounce of Slayer strength in her arms.

Instead, Faith paced quickly to the bed. Dropping to one knee next to Cat’s position, she gently picked Cat’s arm away from her eyes. “You OK, tiger?” She already knew the answer. Knew _Cat_ well enough to know her girl was beating herself up over Faith’s argument with Tara and over nearly being killed. Because of course it was _Cat’s_ fault she’d been hobbling through a fucking cemetery armed with crutches she could barely use without falling down.

All Faith got in response was an infinitesimal shrug. Irritation raised its head. Was this what Tara felt like when Faith refused to answer questions about her behavior?

“I better hear words, little tiger. You and me got some discussing to do.” Faith used two fingers to turn Cat’s head enough that the girl had to meet her gaze. “I asked if you were OK.”

“I’m fine,” Cat muttered.

Tracing the damp trail down one cheek, Faith snorted. “You wanna add lyin’ to the list of shit we’re talking about?”

Cat’s head shook with more vigor than she’d shown with her first response. “No!”

“No?” Faith didn’t let Cat off the hook. “No, you don’t want to talk about why you’re crying? No, you aren’t lying to me when we both know you are? No, you’re not ‘fine?’ Which is it, Cat?”

A bright pink flush painted Cat’s cheeks and her eyes sparked with rebellion…until Faith gripped Cat’s pointed chin and raised both eyebrows (one day, Faith would finally master the Dominant Brow). “I really am fine. The doctor cleared me. You were there in the exam room.”

“You think I was only askin’ about your ankle?” Faith sighed. “Guess I’m such a shitty Dominant that I don’t care about how you’re feelin’ after the fight. That I don’t wanna know why you’re so upset you gotta cry. Since it’s not about your ankle hurting or anything, right?” She deliberately pushed a few of Cat’s buttons.

“That’s not what I meant, Faith!” Cat would have sat up if Faith and the cast on her ankle hadn’t held her down.

Instead of saying anything, Faith waited.

And waited.

Faith let silence surround Cat. A silence that carried with it Faith’s expectation that Cat was going to admit to everything. Every little flaw or failure Cat thought she’d committed since Tara had been called away two days ago.

Cat broke in less than a minute. “It’s all my fault! All of it!”

No, it wasn’t. Faith owned a large piece of the blame. Yet she didn’t interrupt Cat.

“Tara told me not to leave the apartment except for doctors’ visits or to maybe get something from one of the cafeterias.” Cat somehow managed to avoid Faith’s gaze without moving any other part of her body. “Even then I was supposed to have you push me in a wheelchair.”

“And you still went with me to the cemetery.” Faith had known the rules, too. She’d played on Cat’s desire to escape the apartment. Yet Cat should have refused. Tara was the one true leader in their triad. Tonight, they’d both accept the consequences of their actions.

Cat sniffed as another tear dripped onto her pillow. “Yes.”

Pride warmed the resurging terror inside Faith. “Thank you, little tiger.” Faith rewarded Cat’s acceptance of her mistake with a brush of her lips against the back of Cat’s right hand. Standing on unwilling, suddenly ungainly legs, Faith set the stage for Cat’s upcoming punishment.

She moved the short, wooden tray table that they often used for breakfasts in bed or for late nights on laptops across Cat’s thighs. “Keep your arms where I put them, tiger. If they move, I’ll add extras.” Faith didn’t explain more. It was already nearly impossible to keep her voice steady. To maintain her composure and project the certainty that this was _right_.

Jaw clenched, Faith strode to the closet. Spanking Cat was out. Putting Cat over Faith’s knees would place pressure on Cat’s already swollen and stressed ankle. Faith skipped over the paddles and several leather straps with a different plan in mind. The one she chose was a single, thick, handmade leather ruler strap with carefully beveled edges to avoid accidental injury to a submissive. She made one additional pickup: a kneeling pillow.

Cat blanched when she saw the strap. Her hands twisted and turned against the tray top. Faith paused and made a show of waiting to see if Cat would follow her command and leave her hands in place.

They stayed but the tremor in Cat’s fingers was clear.

When Faith reached the bed, she turned Cat’s hands palm up and stretched out her arms until both hands set just beyond the far edge of the tray. She placed a soft kiss to each palm. “Hold them steady, tiger, and keep your fingers out. Don’t curl them up. I don’t want to hit them by accident.”

As a final safeguard, Faith lay the pillow low on Cat’s wrists. A dividing line between the “target” area of Cat’s palms and the vulnerable veins and tendons of Cat’s wrists.  “Twelve lashes, little tiger. No counting. I want you to focus on how much each one hurts because Tara and I would have hurt, too, if anything had happened to you.”

“Yes, Faith.” Cat was already crying, sobs shaking her frame, before Faith raised the leather strap.

Faith counted because she was the Dominant. At the same time, though, her mind narrowed to a laser focus on Cat’s breathing, the color and state of her palms, to ensuring each lash landed exactly where Faith wanted it with exactly the right amount of force.

Every broken cry and plea for Faith to stop stabbed at Faith – only to be driven back by images of Cat’s body lying cold and unresponsive in the cemetery or on a metal table in the HQ medical wing. Leaving welts and swelling on Cat’s palms was far better than losing Cat forever.

The punishment was over in minutes, but Faith would never be the same again. She numbly dropped the strap onto the floor and moved the pillow and tray to the end of the bed. Her arms and legs barely cooperated as she crawled onto the bed and curled up against Cat’s side. She wrapped the girl in a crushing hug. “I love you, Cat, so fucking much. I’m proud of you. So proud. I’ve got you.” The words tumbled out, syllables and sounds running together like water cascading over rocks.

_As I am proud of you, my Slayer_. Tara kissed the top of Faith’s head, hands rubbing at the taut muscles of her neck. _I know this was hard, and I know you hated having to hurt Cat. Take care of our girl. I’ll be right here. Ready to hold you, too. Until then…_ Warmth surrounded Faith like an electric blanket. _I love you, Faith._


	9. Requested Bonds - Belonging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cat reflects on her dynamic with Tara.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is, hands down, the shortest drabble I've written. Welcome to the rat trap that is my mind, where this was supposed to be a much longer glimpse of the difference in Cat and Faith's individual relationship with Tara.

There was a moment, Cat realized, where her mind and soul re-aligned. It started the moment Tara clipped the leash to her collar. A simple, quiet click that began a cascade effect.

Where anxiety faded, replaced by forgotten confidence.

Where Cat was surrounded in safety, wrapped with the warmth of  Tara’s ownership.

Where Cat didn’t need to think, only feel.

Where everything that was “Cat” snapped into a seamless strand of love, support, and protection symbolized by a single strip of leather.

She knew Tara felt it, too, in the way Tara paused after hooking the leash to Cat’s collar. In the way Tara’s breath faltered for an instant before picking up with a hitch. In the way Tara’s hands grew impossibly gentler as they caressed the skin just above the platinum links hugging Cat’s neck.

Cat surrendered to those feelings. The weight of the leash, the slight tug as Tara led them toward the door. A tug which pulled not only Cat’s body forward but her mind somehow _in_ and _down_ into a soft darkness where only Tara existed.

This was where Cat was meant to be. Where she _needed_ to be. At Tara’s heel. Under her command. Held in place not only with Tara’s will but a physical embodiment of their bond.

They didn’t need to speak. Not verbally. Not mentally. The leash was their only language.

It was enough.

Now.

Always.


End file.
